


Yes

by quiveringbunny



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Clothed Sex, F/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 10:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9719471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiveringbunny/pseuds/quiveringbunny
Summary: Still fairly new to the team, Felicity is forced to manage her growing attraction to Oliver Queen when she is faced with an unexpectedly intimate situation while helping the Hood.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this piece for the Tumblr Olicity Valentine's Day Smut-a-thon 2017. The prompt I was given was clothed sex...which was a real challenge for me. I added a sex pollen element, since I have always loved reading those and wanted to try one. Hope you enjoy this story and others in the linked collection. 
> 
> Gotta thank my squad - @scu11y22 and @mel-loves-all for their encouragement as I was writing the story. And a big squooshy hug to @tinaday3w for emotional support, inspiration and cheerful Beta-ing. You ladies are stars. 
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day!

 

It was a good thing that a Mini-Cooper drove like it was on rails because some of the turns Felicity Smoak was maneuvering through the Glades in the dark were dangerously tight.

She was usually a cautious driver and obeyed every traffic signal and street sign. Given what she did at night now, her new “associates,” and her close shave as a near-cyberterrorist, she usually chose to stay under the radar of law enforcement. But tonight was different. Oliver Queen, or the Vigilante (they called him that in the press) appeared to be in trouble. 

Although she had only been part of the team for a little over a month, they had fallen into a pattern in terms of duties. Her domain was mostly digital - hacking, research and monitoring ops. That left the fieldwork to Oliver and John Diggle. But on this night, John was in New York, dealing with some matter having to do with his late brother Andy’s will. 

Felicity was a bit relieved when Oliver announced he was going out on patrol. Before he left, he had been working out. He banged some sticks around. He shot some arrows into some tennis balls. He worked on the salmon ladder. By the end of the workout, he was panting and sweating. All of this left Felicity panting and sweating, as well. Because she was a heterosexual human female and a shirtless Oliver Queen was otherworldly, like some kind of sex alien from another planet, sent to seduce and enslave the female population with his smirky grin and stubble-dusted jaw. And eyes. Eyes that were blue and piercing. Why did he have to have eyes? She loosened the scarf around her neck and closed her eyes in silent adoration. 

All of her heady reactions to his perfection were deliberately and carefully downplayed until Oliver bounded up the stairs, bow in hand, ass clad is glorious green leather, and the door to the lair closed behind him. It was only then that Felicity melted in her chair with a groan and spun around, head thrown back. Of course, this was nothing new. She had felt similar stirrings when he would visit her in the IT department at Queen Consolidated on occasion, but now that they spent their nights together…not like that, of course…because, no. But regular, constant interaction seemed to be pushing her initial attraction toward him into crush territory. And that was a no-no. She reminded herself that she was only part of this trio until they found Walter Steel. 

When Oliver hit the streets that night, it was supposed to be a simple circuit through the seedier parts of Starling City, his usual recon to make sure nothing major was happening. Then, while stopping on a roof to monitor a nightclub, he overheard some talk of a lab, a meth lab of some kind, being constructed in an empty building on Moss Street. Given its proximity to an apartment building and, coincidentally, Queen Consolidated, he made his way over to check things out. 

“Are you sure you should go over there without backup? Digg will be back tomorrow,” she stated through the comm link, her eyes trained on the monitors. 

“It’ll be fine,” his voice replied, low and coarse, like sandpaper. It was a good thing he couldn’t see her bite her lip and fan herself a little. 

He announced himself later when he arrived at the location, assuring her once more, in his gritted whisper, that he would keep his distance. Felicity had little confidence that he would actually stay back. Over the comms, he reported that there were jugs of chemicals being carried into a service door in the alley behind a building and he needed to get a better look. 

That was the last she had heard from him - twenty minutes earlier. And while not having Oliver respond to her inquiries via headset was troubling, what really concerned her was the tracking device in his boot. The green blinking dot on her screen had not moved from that location either. It was unlike Oliver to stay in one place very long. He always seemed to be moving. Felicity’s instincts shouted that something was very wrong, which led her to grab her coat, her purse and a nearby crowbar before hopping into her car and speeding through the Glades to sate her curiosity. 

The headlights of the the small car were the main source of illumination as she coasted quietly down the deserted alley parallel to Moss Street. It had taken her twenty-five minutes to get there and according to her phone, the tracking device was still nearby. Felicity only saw static dark shapes and occasional glints off of metal and glass windows until she spied something slumped against a doorway. Given that this was the vicinity of the tracker, she stopped, snagged the crowbar from the passenger seat for courage, and climbed out of the car to approach the slouched figure. Within steps, she recognized Oliver’s outline and rushed forward to crouch close to him, teetering on her black pumps, which now seemed completely inappropriate for evening.

Felicity dropped the crowbar and pulled out her cell phone. She turned on the built-in flashlight as she reached for his shoulder. It was important to determine how he might be injured before trying to move him. 

“No,” he cried in a hoarse voice as he startled awake. “What?…” 

Felicity touched his dark jacket just as his hooded head rose up. 

“Are you okay? Can you get up?” Felicity couldn’t see any obvious wounds through brief glances, interspersed with swiveled looks around the dark street. She didn’t know if there were still threats on hand and they were far from safe. 

When she looked back down, Oliver was gazing up at her, green makeup still painted across his face to affect a mask. But his eyes were glassy and he was panting, much like he had been during his workout. Sweat was beading on his forehead too. Something wasn’t right. 

“Don’t,” he huffed, slowly regaining his faculties.

“We need to move,” she hissed, deliberately avoiding saying his name out loud. Felicity reached forward and cupped the side of his face with her small hand. 

“Felic…” He shook his head, still shrouded in the green hood.

“You are going to be okay. Let’s get you out of here.” With that, Felicity stood and used all of her strength to haul the bulky man up from the ground. She couldn’t have done it without him still having some energy. His quiver, arrows and bow rattled awkwardly as he rose on unsteady legs to lean on her. The two made their way to the car, which suddenly looked smaller when Oliver’s sizable frame was compared to it.

Felicity opened the back passenger door and managed to urge him inside, across the back seat. Once he was safely in, she shut the door and scurried into the driver’s seat

“I’d tell you to buckle up, but I think safety features are wasted on you.” Felicity looked back at him, prone and in distress in the back of her car and couldn’t help but remember that night when she discovered him there, injured from the gunshot his mother inflicted on him. He assured everyone that the wound was better, but could one really heal from that? 

With that on her mind and ready to turn forward and start the car, she caught a glimpse of something before the dome light inside the car switched off. Was it? No. Couldn’t be. There was an obvious and rather remarkable bulge in Oliver’s pants. Her face suddenly flashed with heat. She dared not speak for a moment, knowing whatever she said would come out wrong. So she turned over the engine and began to drive, all the while wishing she could slide under the wheels of her own car. 

“Felicity,” she heard him croak from the back, seeming to finally find his voice. “They threw an open bottle at me. A drug. Then they knocked me out.” 

This new information dragged her brain out of the embarrassed zone and into problem-solving territory immediately and she was most grateful. Looking in the rear view mirror, she saw him grasping anxiously at the upholstered seats - the same ones she had only recently managed to clean his blood from. 

“I should take you to a hospital, Oliver. We don’t know what might happen.”

“No,” he roared. The power of his voice unsettled her, but it made her listen. “It’s familiar…like something I experienced once before. Hong Kong. Only much more powerful. I’m not dressed for the ER and…they can’t help me.”

“You were in Hong Kong?” That was new information. She was dying to ask more, but right now didn’t seem the right time. But her brain was buzzing. Kind of loudly, actually. And Oliver was emitting groans she was quite sure were involuntary. 

“Felicity, how long will it take to get back to the Foundry?” 

“About a half an hour,” she replied quickly. There was adrenaline in her system now from this adventure. “Maybe less, if I drive like a maniac.”

“No,” Oliver huffed. “Can’t do that. Need you to find a place. A place to stop the car.”

“But Oliver, you’re sick. We need to get you back. Maybe one of those herb cocktails of yours…”

“It’s too late. You touched my face, Felicity. The drug is in your system now too. It’s not safe for you to keep driving a car.”

It took a moment for Felicity to process the words. _The drug is in your system now too_. Holy shit. What did that mean? What was going to happen to them? Her brain was reeling. But at the same time, she realized he spoke the truth. In the last few minutes she had become hot and jittery. Occasionally, it felt like there was lightning in her veins. It wasn’t a rush from the danger and excitement. Something definitely wasn’t right with her. And how long would it take before she was as incapacitated as Oliver was? 

She willed herself not to spiral with worry. There was an immediate situation that needed to be handled. Where could she park the car? Then she recalled a familiar spot in the neighborhood, not far from the office, and directed the car there in minutes. 

Pulling into the parking garage, Felicity maneuvered the car to the empty roof level, assuring that there would be no curious passersby, except perhaps a random helicopter. She threw the vehicle gear-shift to park and turned off the engine. Suddenly, the only sound was Oliver breathing. She wiped her moist forehead with the pad of her palm and sighed, looking straight out over the lights of Starling City. 

“What is this place?” 

“I come here sometimes when I want to get away from the office. The head of IT is an idiot and interrupts me every day when I eat lunch at my desk.”

“You eat your lunch at your desk every day?” This bit of information was a welcome distraction for Oliver at that moment. But with it came a little sympathy. He didn’t know her very well, but Felicity should be eating lunch with co-workers and making friends, not slaving away in her office all day and then coming to the Foundry at night as well. 

“What kind of drug is this, Oliver?” She tried not to sound small and afraid, but her imagination was leading her there. 

When he didn’t answer, Felicity turned around to face him. He looked back at her with an unreadable look. 

“It’s an aphrodisiac. Obviously.” He subtly nodded towards his lap and then looked away with a huff. 

Felicity faced forward and lowered her head onto the steering wheel, embarrassed again. “Of course it is.” She was starting to feel a tightness deep within that was only relieved when her thighs shifted. _Oh shit_. 

A moment later, she heard him make a pained sound as he tried to move. It was a cross between a grunt and a moan and it went straight from her ears to her belly, causing her to rock a little in her seat. 

“Are we going to die?” The graveness of her voice elicited an unexpected chuckle from him. 

“No, I don’t think so. Just need to ride it out. I should probably go…” His typical reflexes obviously compromised, Oliver clumsily reached for the door handle beside him.

“What are you doing? Where are you going to go?” Felicity nearly deployed her "loud voice" now. At this point, it seemed like the testosterone was pulsating from him and she was already on the same frequency. 

Oliver took a deep breath and shifted his legs to sit up. “This is going to get…awkward really soon and I just think it’s best if…”

“Oliver,” Felicity sat back up and turned around to face him again. “It’s already awkward. You’re…you know,” she stammered, waving towards his groin. “And I’m…feeling…” 

She rolled her eyes, fanned herself, and sighed. “Similar. But I’m scared too.” 

And then Felicity did something very brave. And possibly very dumb. But at this point, she was likely thinking with her ladyparts. 

She got out of the car, took off her coat and threw it in her seat, then opened the back door and scooted into the seat next to Oliver Queen and his ridiculous display of manhood. 

“What are the chances this drug induces memory loss in addition to overwhelming feelings of…you know?”

Oliver shook his head. “I have no idea.” Avoiding her gaze, Oliver’s eyes were drawn to the line where the hem of her black skirt was riding up to expose her knees. Further down, her high heels curved and teased. Everything about the situation felt a little dangerous now.  


Felicity shut her eyes and processed before saying the next thing, what had been in her mind when she ambled into his personal space. 

“Let's just go with probably." Her tone was demanding. "Have you ever heard that television advertising campaign, “Whatever happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?” 

“No,” he sputtered. “I didn’t have a TV for years, Felicity. And you really should keep your distance from me.” His hands were doing this thing she’d seen before where his thumbs were rubbing the pads of his fingers and she wanted them on her instead - even if they were gloved. 

“Well, what it means is that…and I can’t believe I’m saying this. Here inside the car for the foreseeable future…whatever we do…whatever we need to do…it won’t count.” Mindlessly, one of her hands rubbed her thigh. 

Oliver’s eyebrow shot towards his hairline, but he found his attention drifting to her thigh also. “Won’t count?” 

Felicity shook her head, her ponytail waving behind her. “On the off-chance that we don't wake up in the morning with splitting headaches and no memory of this, it’s just two friends helping each other through a hard— difficult time. Not that we’re, you know, friends really. More like colleagues, I guess.”

“We’re friends, Felicity,” he corrected her, grimacing now to fight the distraction caused by his impossibly aching groin. 

“Oh, well. Thanks. ” She looked pleased about this revelation for a moment, but then her brain leapt forward to the next thought. “I guess that still makes it weird. Um, well maybe we just…for the next while…you’re the Starling City Vigilante.”

Oliver interrupted, impatience and desperation coloring his tone. “I _am_ the Starling City Vigilante.” 

“Right. The Hood.” Felicity sought out his gaze and moved to touch his arm. It felt warm through the jacket of his suit. “And I’m nobody. Just a woman you rescued.Wait, that doesn't sound hot at all. Leave it to me to come up with a boring alter ego right out of the box. I mean..." 

She went quiet all of a sudden. Then, she tugged the tie out of her hair, causing her locks to fall gently in waves against her shoulders and the scent of coconut and citrus to breeze through the air between them. The smell hit Oliver's nose most pleasurably. Mesmerized, he watched Felicity unbutton two buttons on her collared pink blouse, exposing flushed skin and a shadow of delicate cleavage. 

"I'm a mysterious femme fatale in disguise. I could be very, very dangerous." Felicity pulled off her glasses and placed them on the front seat before sitting back and nibbling on her bottom lip, nervously.

Oliver could barely manage logical thinking now. He nodded and looked at her face. She was sweet and a little troubled, and in that moment, he just wanted to alleviate her burden. 

"What should I call you?" He gathered her hair in his hand and admired how soft it looked in the dim light. 

"Yes," she sighed and tugged his hand so she could drag her pink lips against his fingers while retaining eye contact. 

"Yes?" He quirked his eyebrow. 

"It's easy to remember, isn't it?" Felicity purred. Honest to God. She didn't know where that came from, but she wasn't even embarrassed. 

Oliver wanted her. Now. Of course, he'd always found her attractive - not supermodel hot like the girls Ollie Queen stacked up like cordwood before the island, but girl-next-door beautiful. He'd had his share of the former and, honestly, the latter was a little too real and kind of scary, so he had kept his distance all these months. 

But not at this moment. All of the excuses he gave himself for not touching her dozens of times in the past simply disintegrated in his brain and he could think of no reason not to proceed. It was probably the drug -- it had to be the drug -- he reminded himself as he reached out and wrapped his arm around her neck to draw her close enough. Then, his mouth connected with hers.

The kiss began as a soft, tentative meeting. Then Oliver shifted the angle and anything resembling hesitation was obliterated by Felicity’s warm tongue sliding past his lips and engaging his with a slow, seductive scrape. It felt amazing. Their moan and whimper happened simultaneously and whatever control had been precariously in place vanished in an instant. 

It didn't take Felicity long to get into character. She gave her hands permission to touch him without holding back or self-consciousness, to flatten one palm against his impressive chest while the other cupped his jaw. When she reached up to push back his hood so that she could touch his hair, Oliver leaned into her porcelain ear and whispered in his lowest voice.

"No. It should stay on."

"Of course," she replied with a shaky breath, reacting to the amorous attention he was suddenly paying to her neck. "Identities must remain secret." The suit was part of the illusion, so of course it made sense. Felicity dropped her hand to his outer thigh, making direct contact with the emerald leather that fit him so perfectly. It felt amazing against her fingers, smooth and powerful. 

Oliver needed more. He needed to feel her body against his more than he needed to breathe. He pivoted to recline across the backseat, and hauled her on top to blanket him. Her skirt slid up enough that he could reach down and touch skin. The feeling was muted by his gloves, but he hardly minded. The groan that escaped him was only eclipsed by the whimper Felicity emitted when she discovered she could finally straddle his thigh and press her aching center against something hard enough to provide friction. And his body was definitely hard enough. 

The next round of kissing was much more aggressive. Deeper exploration. Desperate, curious tongues. Felicity sucked on Oliver's bottom lip just as she felt his other gloved hand graze her waist and slide up to grasp her breast. His other hand — the one that had started on her knee — was moving up and gathering the fabric of her skirt. It bunched around her waist until Oliver had a clear path to brush his thumb against her panties. Felicity had never been felt up by leather-gloved hands before and the sensation, the feeling of strength sheathed inside them, kneading and touching, was stoking her fire furiously.

If there was ever a moment in his life, since leaving Lian Yu, when Oliver nearly slipped and lost complete control, it was when he felt Felicity Smoak gently lay her hand on his straining crotch. She stroked the second skin that bound him and lightly trailed her fingers along the outline created by his erection. Felicity pulled her mouth away from his swollen lips and panted against his cheek.

"How should we take care of this?" She applied a little more pressure to the bulge so that he knew what "this" she was referring to. 

"What," he stuttered, "what do you..."

Felicity smiled an unfamiliar smile and then went about the serious task of unfastening his trousers. Oliver expected to feel a little relief when his zipper descended, but then her beguiling hand was coaxing his cock from its confines and a new kind of desperation took over. 

"Oh," was all she uttered, gently wrapping her delicate fingers around his hard length. 

Oliver groaned and couldn't help thrusting his hips, instinctually seeking friction to accompany the intimate pressure. 

When Felicity released him, he nearly whined out of loss. He looked up at her, pleading, then observed as she - nearly in slow motion - slid her fingers inside her panties. Oliver held his breath, then watched her slip her hand out, only to glide her moistened fingers along his shaft. Then she began stroking him with deliberation and pressure. 

It would be a lie if Felicity denied fantasizing about a situation like this. To have even the smallest amount of influence and intimacy with a man she was not only desperately attracted to, but whom she had observed usually displaying remarkable control at all times, was a real head rush. But the reality was also much hotter than her geek-brained imagination had conjured. 

It took hardly a minute or two of ministrations. Oliver had been drugged for some time now and his body would wait no longer. A violent pulse erupted through what seemed like his entire body. 

"Oh God. Yes." His voice strained along with the rest of him.

As his hips shuddered, he felt soft silk. A colorful scarf he hadn't noticed before had been thoughtfully swathed around him at the last moment. With a shaky breath, he almost laughed in relief. Oliver softly covered Felicity's hand, which still gripped the fabric and his throbbing cock, with his own, and gently rubbed her knuckle in acknowledgment. 

Felicity leaned down and claimed his mouth, open and wet. She was feeling both aroused and completely uninhibited now, which was reflected in her kiss. She mentally checked herself. Was it the drug? Maybe a little, but it was mostly her. In the charged air and enclosed space, this evening had become surreal, delivering her dreams to her in unexpected ways. 

The silk scarf fell to the backseat floor as Felicity shifted to grip the Vigilante's green jacket tightly and resumed dragging her sex against his thigh with need. Oliver sensed her goal and disengaged his lips from hers so he could switch places with her. The action was a little challenging, given how small the area was, but he still managed to achieve his goal quickly enough to leave her a little dazed by his speed and efficiency. 

Her back suddenly pressed against the door, Felicity immediately reacted to the sensation of Oliver hovering over her, dominating her with his size and intensity. Criminals in Starling City feared the ramifications of crossing paths with The Hood because he was known to be lethal. At the moment, Felicity only found his presence between her slightly bent and broadly spread knees exhilarating. Because he was right there.

Oliver's cowl shifted and his shaded eyes flashed toward her just as he placed his hands on her thighs and slowly slid them forward, thumbs tilted towards her center. He relished the look of his dark fingers pressing against her pale, perfect skin. 

Felicity dropped her head back and drew her lips together as one of the gloves covered her mound and made contact with her panties. With the slightest pressure, he squeezed and urged the cotton taut, causing it to rub against her clit. The friction was delicious and she stifled a cry. 

"Dammit. Do you torture bad guys like this?" She huffed with a perceptible smile.

He repeated the action. "Bad girls." A fleeting smirk crossed his lips, but it was concealed by his hood

God, his voice was deep and rough. _Deep and rough_. Her brain began to loop on those words and her hips shifted towards him instinctively. 

"Mmmm."

When he found himself jealous of the fabric that obviously pleasured her - her moans and gasps were as intoxicating as anything illegal rushing through his system - Oliver shifted the elastic and slipped his finger into her folds. The ease of it let him know she was wet and a voice in his head wondered hotly what it would be like to use his tongue instead. 

Felicity gasped at the feel of him inside her. The sensation of the glove was different — thick and slippery. Although what he was doing to her body was the most intimate thing in the world, the fabric inside her acted as a barrier, establishing a welcome bit of distance between them. That was probably best. Still, a part of her craved to feel his warm skin instead.

"How does that feel?" he whispered, leaning in against her ear, rubbing his temple against hers. 

"Good," she whimpered with a labored breath. 

"Just good?" He pulled his face away from hers and noticed a trace of green makeup smudged against her lovely, flushed cheek. 

"Need more." Her usual voice, the one he'd grown accustomed to in the Lair, was now quiet and pleading. She grabbed his unoccupied hand and placed it on her covered breast. His hand was very big, which made sense now. She almost snorted a laugh, but lust replaced the utterance.

Oliver required no further encouragement. He kneaded her weighty softness against his palm and traced her cleavage with his thumb. In his mind, he conjured an image of the curves and peaks he mapped through her blouse. Then he leaned in and kissed her again, now with the added inspiration of his handiwork.

This time, when his tongue found hers, he slipped his finger inside her too. With coordinated strokes, he fucked her with everything he had, except the part of him that was fully and stiffly present again (already) and wanting desperately to take part.

For what seemed like endless minutes, Felicity's brain, which was usually a buzz of several advanced calculations and coding problems, a list of outstanding work assignments constantly being reprioritized, a grocery list and practice conversations with people who made her anxious, quieted. Oblivion took over. The taste, smell and feeling of this mysterious man worshiping her and coaxing her orgasm was everything.

When Felicity's gasp disengaged her mouth from his and her back arched, Oliver knew her climax was imminent. He rubbed against her clit with his free thumb and whispered, "Yes, come," against her ear with his hot breath. She came hard, pulsing around his finger and letting a strangled scream out that threatened to shatter the steamed car windows. Oliver caught sight of tears rolling from the corners of her eyes before she lowered her head. Her chest heaved with relief, then she propelled herself forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her nose in his green jacket. 

As Oliver slowly brought his arms up and encircled her in them with the gentlest touch, his hood fell back. Felicity was remarkable and despite everything that had just transpired, he still worried that he might crush her in them if he wasn't careful. He placed a quiet kiss on the top of her head just before she pulled back. 

She was smiling. It was a smile of gratitude at first, but as her eyes drifted from Oliver's oddly emotion-filled face, down his disheveled jacket to where his frustrated cock was once again begging for attention, her tongue slipped out of the corner of her mouth and a wry grin took its place. Oliver noticed her noticing and dropped his eyes. He'd been dosed more than her and one go obviously wasn't enough. 

"Looks like we aren't finished yet," she tilted her chin and placed her hand on his thigh, inches away from his head-turning erection. 

"Yeah," he nodded uncomfortably. The voice in his head that told him this kind of intimacy with her was not a good idea earlier in the evening was now shouting. _Shut the fuck up_ , he countered within.

"Don't look worried," she said with a warm smile. ”I am a femme fatale, remember?"

Oliver took a breath and slowly nodded assent. 

"They taught us how to deal with this kind of thing in femme fatale school." Felicity gave him a saucy grin and tossed her hair back. 

With a rare chuckle, Oliver, who hardly smiled, quirked an eyebrow and the edges of his mouth. "Femme fatale school?"

"Mmm hmm," she replied, reaching over and raising his hood back over his head. "And as you may have heard in the dark corners of the city, I was very good in school, Mister Hood."

"Yeah...Yes?" He swallowed hard. 

"Very, very good." She pressed her hand against his chest and pushed him back slowly. The sound of his leather shifting toward the opposite side of the car tickled her ears, as did his sigh as he rested against the other door and settled. He lowered his face to shield his identity again - part of their game - but the angle gave him a perfect view.

Felicity placed her hands on his warm knees and drew circles with her fingers. "I excelled." 

Her gaze was completely fixed on Oliver's stunning manhood, which she leaned toward slowly and deliberately. 

"Good marks, then?" 

"I was valedictorian of my class," she breathed against the tip of his cock before drawing him into her mouth. One of his gloved hands raked into her blonde hair while the other gripped the headrest to keep from thrusting in his seat.

"Oh, yes," was all he could muster and it became his chant for the rest of the night. 

*************

The sound of the garbage truck making the morning rounds in her neighborhood woke her. She was laying on her bed haphazardly, one leg nearly falling off and a pillow under her chin. It was, at first, a slow transition into consciousness, but by the time the collectors were bustling down her street, Felicity was fully awake. 

She was tired.

She had a monster migraine. 

And she recalled, quite vividly, what Oliver Queen tasted like. Every essence and flavor of him. Felicity remembered his soft lips and his hot tongue. Her thighs still ached and she felt a little tender.

At a certain point, she had fallen into a drowse after they were both sated and the drug had been exorcised from their systems. But that was the last thing she remembered. Along with everything that happened before it, of course. Because why wouldn't her current tendency toward inappropriate commentary around a guy she found ridiculously attractive be made even more special by this particular wrinkle in their relationship...that wasn't a relationship. But they were friends, apparently. Because that made it all hunky dorey, A-okay. 

"No!" The word reverberated inside the walls of her empty apartment. 

Why couldn't she have amnesia today? Worse yet was the thought that Oliver, too, was somewhere in the Queen Mansion or in the Lair experiencing the same full recollection of everything she did. Everything that happened. 

"Fuck no." She groaned, pulling a pillow over her head.

As her mind worked through the cobwebs, it occurred to her that she couldn't remember driving home. She ambled out of bed and rushed to her front window. With a sigh of relief, she spied her car parked on the street out front. Then Felicity turned and noticed her keys on the kitchen table. She never left them there. It took little imagination to figure out how they ended up in that spot. 

Felicity called in sick that day. She wasn't one to slack off work without a good reason. In the shower that morning she decided that being accidentally drugged with an aphrodisiac and having inappropriate relations with the scion of her employer, who was also the Starling City Vigilante, and having concerns about after-effects of said drug, was a good enough excuse to play hooky. So she stayed home and binged Netflix, carefully avoiding anything with mature content and not-so-bravely texted Oliver to inform him that she had the flu and would be out of commission for a couple of days, 

_I understand_ , he texted back, somewhat cryptically. Felicity wasn't sure if he understood she might be ill or her need to cultivate a little distance. It didn't matter. She returned to her night job a day later, grateful that John Diggle was back from New York. He provided an excellent buffer. And when he asked his teammates how things went in his absence, Felicity and Oliver both assured him that he missed nothing.

The Mini-Cooper was replaced. Where it had once been a reminder of a fateful meeting, it now reminded her of longing and lust a little too much to be a comfortable mode of transportation to work. She traded it in for a newer model, one with leather seats. They were a luxury, but for some reason she liked them. 

It was a full week before Oliver put his hand on her shoulder again, in friendship, in reassurance. Felicity was surprised, but also happy, because she needed for them to return to their previous dynamic, at least for now. In the back of her mind, she reminded herself that they never even removed their clothes. That was something, right? And as long as they never spoke of it, it didn't matter. It didn't stop her longing looks or her admiration of his body as he worked out. 

Weeks later, driving into the office, Felicity heard a morning news report that the Starling City Police were called to a graphic scene in a boarded up brownstone on the edge of the Glades. The rooms were littered with the detritus of a drug making operation. Smashed bottles. Broken hoses, jugs and pools of mysterious liquid, spoiled by bleach. And three bodies. There were no arrows present at the site and the cops surmised the place had been raided by a rival drug gang looking to eliminate their competition. 

"Yes," she sighed aloud. She had her suspicions about what happened to those drug dealers, but she never asked.

The End.


End file.
